On a Summer's Day
by little0bird
Summary: Percy learns the meaning of forgiveness after the war.


A/N: Written for Fandoms Fight the Floods to aid victims of the flooding in Queensland.

It takes place the morning after Ginny's birthday in _The First Day_.

xxxxxx

Percy self-consciously hitched a pair of Ron's old jeans up a little as he joined the rest of his family at the table for breakfast. Ron was a few inches taller than he was, and meals for Percy were scattershot at best lately, so the jeans sagged. Someone pushed a cup of strong tea toward him, followed by a vial of a hangover potion. Another one appeared floating in his peripheral vision. George held it up. 'Cheers, eh?'

Percy picked up the corresponding vial and clicked it lightly against George's. 'Cheers, bro.' He used his teeth to pry out the cork and spit it out into his other hand, before downing the bitter liquid in one gulp. He hastily scrabbled for the tea to try and take the taste of the potion from his mouth. Headache retreating, he contemplated the breakfast his mother set on the table. His favorite. Eggy bread slathered with butter and drizzled with treacle. Rashers of streaky bacon heaped to the side. Percy's eyes pricked and he pushed his glasses up to rub his eyes. 'Bit of a headache,' he mumbled.

Arthur looked at his watch in consternation. 'We're all going to be horribly late this morning.'

Percy snorted. 'I informed the Minister if he saw me at all this morning, it would be a minor miracle.' His brows drew together in a puzzled frown. 'At least I believe that was the content of the note I sent last night before I went to bed.' A corner of his mouth turned up. 'The memory's a tad hazy.'

'You're skiving off work?' George choked through a mouthful of tea.

'Best jot it down on the calendar,' Percy said solemnly. 'Might be an age before it happens again.'

'I do believe Christmas just came early,' George mused beatifically. 'Skiving off work and a joke. All in the space of five minutes.'

'Shut it and eat your breakfast,' Percy grumbled. He picked up his knife and fork and sliced off the corner of a piece of eggy bread, holding it reverently aloft for just a moment, letting a drop of treacle fall to the plate before sliding it into his mouth. 'Actually, I was hoping I might stay here for the rest of the day…'

'What? And watch me bang dust out of the rugs?' Molly chortled. 'It's a gripping day I've got planned.'

Percy nodded. 'The Minister can manage without me for one day.' The owl waiting patiently for him when he woke up had said as much.

'Hang the rugs, Molly,' Arthur stated. 'They'll keep for one more day.' He sent Molly a significant look over the rim of his teacup. Molly's eyes darted toward Percy and she replied with a slight nod. Everyone else at the table was blissfully unaware of the conversation that had just transpired in front of their eyes.

xxxxxx

Molly jabbed her wand at the basket Arthur cradled in his arms, and a worn blanket unfurled from the opening, settling gently over the grass under a tree. She waved both Percy and Arthur to sit, while she arranged their lunch, setting charms to repel insects and keep the food and drink cool.

Percy's eyes closed as he drank in the sounds of the river rippling on its way to the sea, the breeze waving through the tall grasses surrounding them. It was peaceful, he decided. Truly peaceful, and not a mere lull in the chain of horrific developments of a year ago. He stretched out on one side of the blanket, listening to his parents' quiet banter and muted, rolling chuckles, drowsing in the warm summer day. Before too long, he drifted off into sleep.

xxxxxx

_Percy woke up in a bed that wasn't his. Sonorous breaths that bordered on soft snores came from a neighboring bed. Percy turned his head, squinting. He could make out Charlie's body sprawled in relaxed abandon across the bed, one hand dangling over the edge of the mattress. Bright sunlight streamed through the oriel window, illuminating the humped figure that was George. Percy didn't think George was sleeping. He was entirely too tense. Automatically, Percy glanced at the bed to George's left, expecting to see Fred curled in a ball under the quilt, but the bed was undisturbed, bedding still smooth. And it hit him anew. Fred was gone. Buried under the rubble of a wall, laughing at a silly joke Percy had made in the heat of battle. _At least he died laughing,_ Percy tried to assure himself. _

_It didn't seem real that Fred was gone. He felt responsible for that. It had been his joke, after all, that had momentarily distracted Fred. If Fred hadn't been laughing at him, perhaps he'd still be alive. Percy vowed he would be a better son, a better brother. Especially for George. He would look after George from now on._

_To Percy life seemed to have taken a slightly unreal quality about it, since they discovered Bartimus Crouch had been Imperiused by his Death Eater son, then subsequently killed. It was as if he was somehow a ghost who could step outside his body and view his comings and goings. He had been so __certain__ he was right. He had such complete faith in the Ministry and its ability to handle what Voldemort could throw at them. There were times when he didn't quite believe his parents and brothers were actively attempting to undermine the Ministry. How could they? It had been his mother's dream for her sons to work there. However, he couldn't ignore their activities with the Order of the Phoenix. Couldn't ignore how his family had taken in Harry Potter and believed what he said about Voldemort being back. How could he? No one else had seen it. And there was that terrible business during his sixth year with Harry hearing things none of the other students and staff could hear. It put ideas in people's heads about Harry's mental stability. Including Percy's._

_Perhaps there were signs. But like Fudge, he chose to ignore them. It would have been too absurd to think about Dementors in a Muggle neighborhood. And he was such a stickler for rules, that Harry's blatant use of advanced magic in Little Whinging __clearly__ violated the rules. That caveat for using magic in front of Muggles wasn't meant to cover Dementors, anyway. They never left Azkaban, and therefore, there was no need to use a Patronus charm in full view of Muggles. And frankly, as far as Percy was concerned, Arabella Figg wasn't a credible witness. She was a Squib and couldn't very well see Dementors. It added to the perception that Harry was lying. It planted seeds of doubt in Percy's mind about the boy he'd known, who had spent weeks of their summer holidays with his family. Maybe Harry really did want the attention he claimed he shunned. How else could he explain being in the wrong place at the right time so often? Didn't anyone else remember that unfortunate incident at the World Cup, when Harry's wand had been used to cast a Dark Mark? Harry denied it, of course, as would anyone wishing to keep their unlawful exploits a secret._

_Of course, the aftermath of that battle at the Ministry revealed Fudge had been wrong about Voldemort. He was quickly replaced by the Head of the Aurors – Rufus Scrimgeour. Scrimgeour was a man of action. He arrested anyone that raised the slightest bit of suspicion and threw them in Azkaban. For many witches and wizards, it was preferable to keeping one's head in the sand. But in the end, it all proved to be a meaningless show, never once addressing the issue of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, so the Ministry fell to Voldemort, who installed one of his own – Pius Thickness – into the position of the Minister of Magic._

_He tried to keep his usual routine. He rose before sunrise and showered and shaved. He dressed in his neatly pressed robes, knotting his tie just so. He ate breakfast – a little muesli and fruit with tea and orange juice. He made sandwiches for his lunch, which he would eat at his desk precisely at noon. A quick shine to his shoes and one last run of the hairbrush through his hair, tidying the unruly curls. _

_He would then leave his tiny flat, and walk to the employees' entrance of the Ministry, patiently queuing up behind the other wizards. At exactly eight, Percy would be seated behind his desk, checking over the Minister's schedule for the day, so he could be prepared, just as he was when Fudge, then Scrimgeour, and finally Thickness walked through the door. Percy was a model of efficiency. And he knew it. _

_It has been difficult to be apart from his family. No matter how often Fred and George sent dragon dung fertilizer to him – he always knew it was them – he knew they played pranks on him because they did love him. He actually sort of missed finding the smelly parcel in his inbox of a morning. Ignoring Arthur at work proved to be difficult. Percy adored his father, and had worked to impress him the most. The unmasked hostility he saw on his father's face when they were forced to share a lift or crossed paths in the corridors felt like a stab in the heart. To try and quash it, Percy adopted an air of disdain that became second nature. The first Christmas he kept himself apart had been the hardest. Molly had sent him his jumper. He'd spent Christmas Eve staring at it, bending close to the wrappings, inhaling deeply, drinking in the mingled odors of home that permeated the jumper within and the brown paper without. And he still sent it back, unopened. He'd heard his father had been attacked in the Ministry, but to Percy, as much as he loved Arthur, he felt his father shouldn't have been poking his nose where it didn't belong. One part of him was dying to go to the hospital to see that Arthur still lived for himself, and the other part resolutely kept him away. The part of him that felt rules were there for a reason. And Arthur's actions on the Ministry highlighted his lack of faith in the Minister. And yet, he felt a surge of relief that Arthur was alive and recovering._

_Penelope, who had once been his refuge, ended their relationship when Percy even refused to consider that his parents might be right. Especially when he had allowed himself to be used by Scrimgeour that one Christmas. Penny had furiously tried to tell him it was a trap. Convinced she was as willing to betray him as his parents had, Percy gave her an ultimatum: him or her sense of outrage. She chose the outrage. Those few minutes in the Burrow's kitchen had been hellish. Bill, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny all turned away from him. Arthur kept his gaze on his plate, pushing a morsel of turkey through a puddle of gravy. Molly attempted several times to speak, but the heavy tension in the kitchen seemed to silence her. Percy pretended it hadn't bothered him, but it made him seem more remote._

_After the Ministry fell, Percy knew he was being watched. Of course he was. Arthur Weasley was his father. Percy knew if he had tried to leave his position, to go into hiding, they would find him. And he didn't care to think about the result. He'd sought Penny out then. _Went crawling on my knees, is more like it_, he thought. They'd had to speak in code. Percy felt most Death Eaters weren't terribly bright, but he couldn't speak to her in the open. She was suspected of aiding and abetting the Order, but nothing could be proven. Outwardly, Penny was the very picture of a well-brought up halfblood, whose Muggle relations were far in the past. However, Penny was also exceedingly clever, so she had caught on to his meaning straightaway. They met in a tiny, dim Muggle café, sitting at separate tables. She'd dropped a small square of parchment and a small quill on the floor next to his feet, in the act of digging through her handbag for money. When she took a table in his line of sight, she took out a matching square of parchment and a quill with nod at the set on Percy's table. She began to write with a casual air, as if doodling while waiting for her coffee. Words blossomed over Percy's parchment._

_**How are you?**_

_He tickled his ear with the end of the quill for a moment. __**Terrified.**_

_**So am I.**__ There was a pause, and just as Percy was about to scribble a response, Penny wrote, __**What finally changed for you?**_

_Percy stared into the depths of his coffee. __**It all happened, just as they said it would. Dad tried to convince me, but I didn't believe him. I don't know what to do…**_

_**The same thing the rest of us are doing. Biding our time. Waiting. And hoping that when the end comes, we'll come through the other side.**_

_**What if we don't? **__Percy's hand shook as he wrote._

_**What if we do? You have to keep doing your job, Percy. They can't suspect you. **_

_Percy blindly reached for his coffee and slurped a large swallow, nearly scalding the roof of his mouth. __**Brilliant. What should I do in the meantime?**_

_Penny swallowed the last of her coffee and quickly scrawled a message. __**Just wait. When the time comes when you can act, I'll let you know.**__ With that, she was gone._

_He kept the parchment in his pocket, trying to be patient, chafing at the restrictions, feeling more and more isolated as the days and weeks stretched into months. Every so often, an inquiry would slowly unfold across the creased parchment. Percy would respond with a terse answer, afraid to put more than a brusque "fine" on his parchment. After several weeks, Penny penned a short message that Aberforth would be his contact from now on. Percy wondered if he had endangered Penny's life by approaching her. _

_Then the day came. The first of May. __**The Hog's Head. Now.**_

_Without thinking, Percy grabbed a cloak and Disapparated, shoving open the door of the dilapidated pub as soon as his feet hit the cobblestone street._

xxxxxx

The afternoon sun slanted over Percy's face, bathing it with warm, honeyed fingers of light. He opened his eyes, squinting bemusedly. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Molly was leaning against the trunk of the tree, reading a magazine. Arthur huddled in the shore of the river, a fishing pole balanced in his hands. 'Did you have a nice sleep?' Molly asked, busily pouring cold lemonade into a glass. She held it out to him and Percy took the glass, gulping its rasping sweetness thirstily.

'Sorry,' he muttered when he lowered the glass.

'Whatever for?' Molly asked, refilling the glass.

'I didn't mean to fall asleep like that…'

Molly waved off Percy's concerns. 'It's been a rough year for all of us. And you look as if you haven't slept since the end of…' She paused, fussing with the placement of a sandwich for a moment, gathering her emotions about her. 'Looks as if you haven't slept for weeks.'

'I haven't, really.' Percy reached for a sandwich. He didn't want to speak about his work, or his own mistakes. 'Where did Bill meet his wife…?'

'At Hogwarts before the last task of the Triwizard.' Molly picked at a bunch of grapes. 'She came back in the autumn to work at Gringotts. She and Bill started seeing one another, and before Ron and Ginny came home from school for the summer holiday, they were engaged.'

'She seems nice,' Percy offered.

'She is,' Molly said, although Percy could detect a slight, grudging undertone. 'I do understand what it means for people to judge you on sight, though. Others tend to believe she's nothing more than a nice face and figure. She's actually quite clever.' She popped a grape into her mouth, then added, 'I was certain it wouldn't last very long at first.' She shrugged deprecatingly. 'She makes him happy. It's all I've ever wanted for you boys.'

Percy glanced at her over the rims of his glasses. 'Do you think we're ever going to be really happy again?' he asked soberly.

'I can hope, can't I?' Molly cupped a hand around her mouth. 'Arthur! Come and get something to eat! You can fish later!'

Arthur sighed and reeled in his line, scrambling to his feet. 'Fish aren't biting this afternoon.' He ambled toward the blanket and propped the fishing pole against the tree.

'Do they ever?' Molly quipped.

'Sometimes.'

'Is there a reason why the others aren't with us?' Percy asked suddenly. 'This sort of smacks of something special you'd do for a child when there's about to be a new baby in the family.'

'You remember that, do you?' Arthur asked in amusement.

'Don't change the subject, Dad,' Percy sighed.

'Charlie and Bill had to work,' Molly told Percy patiently. 'As did George and Ron. Ginny and Harry have been giving them a hand, and it wouldn't have been fair to George and Ron to try and handle the shop by themselves.' She tucked a curl behind her ear. 'You've hardly told us anything about yourself, Perce. What did you do with yourself the last three years? Do you have a girl?' Molly paused delicately. 'Or someone…?'

Percy thought about Penny. They spoke to one another in the corridors, should their paths cross, but nothing more. 'No, Mum. I don't have a girlfriend.'

Molly looked disappointed. 'Ah. Well. You've got plenty of time, haven't you?'

'I suppose.'

'You're a good lad, Percy,' Molly assured him.

Percy took a bite of his forgotten sandwich. 'I'm not,' he said quietly. Then with a glance at his father, said, 'But I hope to be. One day.'

xxxxxx

'Would you like to stay to dinner?' Molly asked, as she strolled inside the house, the empty basket in her arms.

Percy knuckled an eye and almost said yes. 'I ought to check in with the Minister,' he said. 'Sort through what's likely on my desk.'

'You'll come on Sunday?'

'I'd like that.' Molly nodded and disappeared into the house. Percy stood in the back garden with Arthur for a few moments, listening to the sounds of the wireless drift from the kitchen while Molly began to prepare dinner. Percy's mouth opened and closed several times before he finally whispered, 'How could you forgive me like that? Like the last three years never happened? Just welcome me back into the family…?' His head shook from side to side.

Arthur gazed at him with a searching expression on his face. 'Parents may not like everything their children do, but it doesn't mean they don't love them anymore.' He wrapped an around Percy's shoulders. 'You're my son,' he said simply, as if it explained everything. He followed Molly into the house, leaving Percy to contemplate the simplicity of an act of forgiveness.


End file.
